IS  IT  ART? 


POST-IMPRESSIONISM 

FUTURISM 

CUBISM 


Constantin  Brancusi  Portrait  of  Mile.  Pogany 

BY 

J.  NILSEN  LAURVIK 
PRICE  50  CENTS  T 


( 


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IS  IT  ART? 


POST-IMPRESSIONISM 

FUTURISM 

CUBISM 

BY 

J.  NILSEN  LAURVIK 


NEW  YORK 

THE  INTERNATIONAL  PRESS 
1913. 


Copyright  1913 
By  J.  NILSEN  LAURVIK. 

For  information  concerning  this 
Book  address; 

J.  N.  LAURVIK, 

14  Gramercy  Park,  New  York  City, 

N.  Y. 


iOTY  mm 


IS  IT  ART? 


I believe  that  nothing  happens  arbitrarily  either  in 
nature  or  in  Society.  Nor  do  I believe  there  is  any- 
thing absolutely  useless  either  in  the  thought  or  in 
the  acts  of  humanity. 

Frequently  where  we  see  only  perturbations,  as 
in  geological  convulsions,  there  is  only  the  harmonious 
development  of  a law;  these  perturbations  are  an  ele- 
ment of  progress  and  that  is  why  I donT  quite  agree 
with  certain  of  my  colleagues  who  persist  in  judging 
the  latest  phase  of  the  evolution  of  plastic  expression 
from  the  fixed  bias  of  a formulated  criteria  that  does 
not  take  into  consideration  the  past,  nor  looks  into  the 
future. 

Since  the  appearance  of  this  new  manifestation  in 
art  I have  been  studying  it,  seeking  its  derivations, 
investigating  the  path  it  follows  and  whither  it  is 
going.  It  seems  to  me  that  this  is  what  we  should 
wish  to  know. 

What  this  movement  has  realized  up  to  the  present 
time  I regard  as  a secondary  consideration,  inasmuch 
as  the  works  produced  might  in  themselves  be  bad 
while  the  principles  upon  which  they  are  based  might 
be  good  and  their  final  success  merely  dependent  upon 
the  appearance  of  a superior  genius  who  would  employ 
these  principles  expressively  instead  of  haltingly.  And 
one  must  not  forget  that  all  novelty  creates  alarm, 
even  when  expresed  by  a genius,  and  is  always  op- 
posed by  the  old,  established  principles  if  for  no  other 
reason  than  that  of  self-preservation,  the  enemy  of 
all  change. 


IS  IT  ART? 


2 


The  marked  tendency  of  this  new  art,  as  far  as 
painting  and  sculpture  are  concerned,  is  retrogression, 
for  it  wants  to  revert  to  primitive  art.  However,  this 
need  not  necessarily  he  scored  against  it  for  is  it  not 
true  that  we  ofttimes  take  a step  backward  that  we 
may  have  more  space  in  which  to  accelerate  our  im- 
pulse forward  and  thus  reach  a greater  distance?  May 
not  this  be  true  of  this  movement?  Time  alone  can 
tell. 

At  the  head  of  this  movement  we  find  three  per- 
sonalities whose  work  is  imbued  with  a certain  orig- 
inality, who  are  spontaneous  and  follow  their  own 
inclination.  Behind  them  we  see  many  walking  in 
their  footsteps  in  the  vain  belief  that  they  accom- 
pany them;  grotesquely  burlesquing  their  work  in 
the  belief  that  they  complete  and  carry  it  forward. 
These  three  personalities  are  Cezanne,  Gauguin,  and 
Van  Gogh. 

The  revolt  against  the  false  idealism  of  the  roman- 
tic school  of  painters  in  France,  brought  about  in  the 
latter  half  of  the  nineteenth  century  by  the  conquests 
of  natural  sciences,  resulted  in  a glorification  of 
realism  that  found  a striking  expression  in  the  work 
of  Courbet,  Monet,  Manet,  and  Degas.  The  intense 
hostility  and  fierce  opposition  aroused  by  these  men 
in  their  quest  of  truth  and  the  subsequent  acceptance 
of  their  work  by  the  public  as  well  as  by  officialdom 
is  now  a matter  of  history  and  need  not  be  rehearsed 
here.  But  there  was  one  man  who  was  more  radical, 
more  uncompromising,  more  fanatical  in  his  search 
of  the  ultimate  reality  than  any  of  the  men  who  made 
up  that  glorious  company  of  innovators  known  as  the 
Impressionists. 

His  name  was  Paul  Cezanne,  friend  and  fellow- 
townsman  of  Emile  Zola,  who  hailed  from  Aix,  in 
Provence,  whence  both  went  up  to  Paris  to  conquer 


PA UL  CEZANNE  — PROGENITOR 


the  world.  Zola  came,  saw  and  conquered,  becoming 
as  much  a part  of  Paris  as  the  Eiffel  Tower,  but  Cezanne 
they  could  not  abide  although  they  put  up  with 
Manet  and  even  Claude  Monet,  and  after  a time  he 
returned  to  the  more  amicable  hills  of  Provence  where 
he  became  the  local  enigma. 

Cezanne  is  a primitive  by  nature  and  not  by 
theory.  His  life,  his  education,  the  place  in  which 
he  lived  and  his  attitude  toward  art  prove  this.  He 
led  a simple  life,  always  isolated.  He  was  one  of  the 
most  prominent  members  of  the  Impressionist  group, 
though  not  one  of  the  most  active ; he  was  opposed  to 
all  that  meant  school,  going  his  own  way,  pursuing  his 
own  ideal. 

Cezanne  is  not  quite  as  original  as  some  of  his 
most  ardent  admirers  would  have  us  believe.  In  many 
ways  his  work  recalls  Greco,  but  I don’t  mean  to  im- 
ply that  he  consciously  or  unconsciously  imitated  him; 
rather,  I belive  it  was  more  of  a kinship  of  feelings 
and  ideas  than  an  imitation,  though  his  admiration 
of  the  Spanish  master  is  clearly  shown  by  the  numer- 
ous copies  he  made  of  him. 

He  became  known  first  as  a landscape  painter 
and  if  his  landscapes  excited  the  ire  of  the  critics, 
when  they  came  to  know  him  as  a figure  painter  they 
accused  him  of  profaning  art.  I find  in  him  a notable 
spontaneity,  a great  sincerity,  which  may  be  due  to  his 
impotence  no  less  than  to  his  genius. 

Like  Strindberg  in  his  later  misanthropic  years, 
he  shut  himself  off  from  all  intercourse  with  his  fel- 
low men,  and  year  by  year,  in  his  two  studios  in  Aix, 
he  laboriously  evolved  the  art  that  was  finally  to  revo- 
lutionize the  current  conception  of  form.  However, 
the  world  did  not  trace  a path  to  his  door  although 
he  was  not  wholly  without  honor.  Huysmans  is  out- 
spoken in  his  admiration  of  him  and  does  not  hesitate 


IS  IT  ART f 


U 


to  assert  that  Cezanne  contributed  more  to  accelerate 
the  impressionist  movement  than  Manet,  and  Zola  dedi- 
cated to  him  his  Salons  which  are  now  to  be  found  in 
a volume  of  essays  on  art  and  literature  bearing  the 
provocative  title  of  Mes  Haines,  and  finally,  in  the 
year  1901,  there  was  exhibited  in  the  Champ  de  Mars 
Salon  a picture  by  Maurice  Denis  entitled  Hommage 
a Cezanne,  after  the  well-known  hommages  of  Fantin- 
Latour. 

But  it  was  left  for  a later  generation  to  pay  him 
the  supreme  compliment  of  imitation,  obscuring  his 
virtues  and  exaggerating  his  faults  and  he  who  was 
in  his  day  rejected,  despised  and  laughed  off  the  ar- 
tistic map  of  Paris  has  now  forced  upon  him  the  doubt- 
ful honor  of  fathering  this  whole  new  movement  in 
France,  that  has  been  labeled  with  the  misleading  mis- 
nomer: Post-Impressionism.  As  a matter  of  fact  the 
men  who  are  at  the  present  moment  engaging  the  at- 
tention of  Paris  and  the  art  world  in  general  have 
little  or  nothing  to  do  with  what  is  generally  recog- 
nized as  Impressionism  and  its  exponents ; rather,  they 
are  anti- Whistlerian,  Pseudo-Primitives.  If  an  appel- 
lation is  needed  I think  Pseudo-Primitives  will  more 
truly  characterize  them  than  the  confusing  and  irrele- 
vant one  now  in  general  use.  At  all  events  it  would 
be  more  nearly  justified  by  the  sources  from  which 
they  derive  their  inspiration  and  artistic  sustenance, 
which  I think  wil  be  apparent  to  any  one  who  exam- 
ines these  works  in  the  light  of  what  has  been  achieved 
in  primitive  art. 

Cezanne  was  not  alone  a primitive  at  heart;  he 
was  a realist  of  the  ultimate  type.  He  reduced  reality 
to  its  lowest  denominator  and  in  him  realism  achieved 
its  culmination.  His  extraordinary  eyes  saw  things 
as  they  actually  are — not  as  we  believe  them  to  be 
from  long-associated  ideas  of  roundness  or  fiatness 


PAUL  CEZANNE  — PROGENITOR 


5 


acquired  through  contact,  and  therefore  there  is  some- 
thing of  the  grotesqueness  of  stark  truth  in  all  his 
work.  Its  uncompromising  verity  appeals  and  repels, 
v"ery  much  as  does  the  naturalism  of  Zola.  His  still- 
life  studies  are  the  most  concrete  demonstration  of 
this.  Apparently  distorted  wilfully  with  the  intent 
to  astonish,  they  are  as  true  to  the  actual  appearance 
of  things  as  a camera  lens  could  make  them. 

No  one  so  closely  analyzed  the  play  of  light  on 
surfaces  and  its  effect  on  form  as  did  Cezanne,  and 
no  one  before  him  had  the  hardihood  to  put  down 
what  he  saw  with  the  same  unflinching,  literal-minded 
adherence  to  facts.  When  one  remembers  that,  as 
far  as  form  is  concerned,  most  people  see  with  their 
fingers  instead  of  with  their  eyes  it  is  not  very  difficult 
to  perceive  the  reason  for  the  universal  misunderstand- 
ing that  has  grown  up  around  his  work. 

For  it  is  a fact  well  known  to  scientists  that  the 
conception  of  form,  is  more  largely  dependent  on  the 
sense  of  touch  than  of  sight  and  that  a sphere,  for 
example,  appears  flat  to  one  who  has  not  touched  it. 
Therefore  the  idea  of  solidity  and  roundness  thus 
gained  by  contact  in  early  life  is  so  elemental  and 
pervasive  as  to  remain  a fixed  and  arbitrary  criterion 
to  which  all  and  sundry  conceptions  of  roundness  con- 
form involuntarily  in  the  mind  of  the  uncritical  spec- 
tator. Only  a very  few  persons  can  disassociate  the 
appearance  of  things  from  the  knowledge  of  their  form 
and  structure  acquired  through  their  sense  of  touch. 

This  differentiation  of  form  has  been  for  many 
ages  the  special  province  of  the  artist;  he  has  noted 
the  divergencies  that  distinguish  the  apple  from  the 
sphere,  that  give  it  its  special  and  unique  character 
as  compared  with  an  orange,  for  instance.  In  his 
researches  into  the  true  nature  of  form  the  artist  has 
become  ever  more  exacting  in  his  endeavor  to  dis- 


6 


IS  I T ART? 


cover  the  most  significant  and  expressive  form:  the 
one,  in  other  words,  that  should  most  nearly  approach 
the  ultimate  truth. 

The  whole  progress  of  art  is  traced  in  this  evolu- 
toin  of  form,  culminating,  as  far  as  realism  is  con- 
cerned, in  Cezanne  who  got  down  to  the  bone  of  the 
matter  in  his  final  emphasis  on  the  sub-structure  of 
form.  To  him  a sphere  was  not  always  round,  a cube 
always  square  or  an  ellipse  always  elliptical.  Thus 
the  traditional  oval  of  the  conventional  face  disap- 
peared in  his  portraits,  the  generally  accepted  round 
surfaces  of  a vase  or  bowl  was  represented  as  flat 
and  dented  in  spots  and  the  horizontal  stability  of  the 
horizon  was  rendered  elliptical  whenever  it  so  appear- 
ed to  him. 

The  general  truthfulness  of  his  observations  may 
readily  be  tested  by  any  one  of  normal  vision  who 
will  carefully  observe  the  actual  appearance  of  the 
surfaces  of  a round  sugar  bowl,  for  example,  when 
placed  in  the  light  of  a window.  It  will  be  found  that 
certain  planes  are  as  flat  as  the  table,  that  others 
present  the  appearance  of  dents  and  hollows,  and  the 
more  clearly  this  is  perceived  the  more  grotesque 
will  the  object  appear  as  compared  with  the  precon- 
ceived image  of  it  established  in  our  minds  by  the 
unconscious  interaction  of  the  sense  of  touch  and  sight. 

We  know  that  scientifically  regarded  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  a round  surface,  that  what  appears  to 
to  be  such  is  simply  the  closely  adjusted  juxtaposi- 
tion of  infinitesimal  planes  that  are  each  perfectly 
flat.  And  the  very  fact  that  painters  refer  to  the 
surface  of  a figure  as  planes  is  indicative  of  a partial 
recognition  of  this  basic  characteristic  of  structure. 
Nevertheless  both  artists  and  laymen  persist  in  speak- 
ing of  the  roundness  of  a torso,  for  example,  when  in 
reality,  if  we  could  disassociate  the  sense  of  round- 


PAUL  CEZANNE  — PROGENITOR 


7 


ness  from  the  appearance  of  ronndness  as  did  Cezanne, 
we  would  find  large  surfaces  of  spheroids  quite  fiat. 
Therein  lies  the  real  secret  of  the  art  of  Cezanne  who 
is  the  first  of  realists. 

This  principle  he  developed  and  applied  consis- 
tently in  all  its  ramifications  to  the  representation  of 
form,  which  he  worshipped  with  the  fanatical  zest 
of  one  intent  on  discovering  the  inherent  truth  in 
matter.  But  he  only  exposed  its  inner  shell  through 
which  the  real  spirit  of  things  struggles  in  vain  to 
manifest  itself. 

He  remained  a literalist  true  to  his  abnormal,  or 
shall  we  say  excessively  normal,  sense  of  actuality. 
That  is  the  quality  of  his  art  that  at  once  attracts  and 
repels.  It  lacks  imagination;  it  is  coldly  geometrical, 
mathematically  precise,  and  hence  rigorously  truth- 
ful in  the  sense  that  two  and  two  make  four.  His 
still  life  pieces,  his  landscapes,  his  portraits  have  some- 
thing of  the  intense  and  startling  reality  of  naked 
truth.  Whether  painting  a vegetable  or  a human  being 
the  one  is  treated  with  the  same  whole-souled  absorp- 
tion as  the  other. 

Cezanne  gave  form  concrete  value,  supplementing 
and  correcting  the  researches  of  Monet  into  the  nature 
of  light  and  color.  He  was  intent  on  conveying  the 
depth,  volume,  and  the  bulk  and  mass  of  the  universe 
that  makes  of  it  a tangible  reality  as  opposed  to  the 
Whistlerian  veil  of  mystery,  tenuous,  gauze-like  and 
unreal  that  made  of  objects  in  the  natural  world  a 
mere  blur  of  pleasant  color. 

Thus  his  pictures  became  designs  of  closely  organ- 
ized planes,  plastically  treated,  in  which  the  color  is 
an  integral  factor  instead  of  being  the  pre-eminent 
or  merely  an  incidental  factor.  In  fact  color  was  the 
basis  of  his  design  as  he  remarked  in  a letter  to  Emile 
Bernard,  “Design  and  color  are  in  nowise  distinct; 


8 


18  ITABTf 


in  proportion  that  one  paints,  one  designs;  the  more 
the  color  is  harmonized,  the  more  precisely  is  the 
design  rendered.’'  And  he  adds,  “When  the  color 
reaches  richness,  form  attains  its  fullness  (plentitude). 
Contrasts  and  relations  of  tone — there  is  the  secret 
of  design  and  modelling.”  Hence  his  color  approaches 
monochrome  in  which  his  practice  coincides  with  the 
theory  promulgated  before  him  by  Goya  who  was  fond 
of  saying  that  in  nature  color  does  not  exist,  every- 
thing is  light  and  shade. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  the  principles  formulated 
by  Cezanne  were  nowise  revolutionary  in  character. 
It  was  his  application  of  these  principles  that  was 
new  to  the  point  of  being  startling.  First  of  all  he 
strongly  affirmed  the  basic  necessity  of  design  as  the 
fundamental  element  of  all  art.  “The  painter,”  he 
says  in  one  of  his  illuminating  letters,  “makes  con- 
crete his  sensations  and  perceptions  by  means  of  design 
and  color.”  This,  too,  was  in  accordance  with  the 
past  teaching  of  the  schools;  the  novelty  consisted  in 
the  fact  that  Cezanne  actually  carried  it  into  practice 
with  the  utmost  consistency,  reducing  form  to  an  exact 
science  in  which  he  established  the  principle  that  form 
in  nature  is  based  upon  the  geometric  figures  of  the 
sphere,  cone  and  cylinder. 

His  re-discovery  of  this  principle,  which  had  been 
the  animating  spirit  of  art  from  the  time  when  it 
emerged  from  a purely  intuitive  state  into  a condi- 
tion of  self-consciousness  that  perceived  in  geometry 
the  key  to  the  universe,  his  affirmation  of  this  prin- 
ciple constituted  his  chief  contribution  to  modern  art. 

Upon  this  solid  foundation  his  fame  rests  securely 
and  in  due  time  his  work  will  no  doubt  repose  in  the 
Louvre  together  with  those  other  masters — the  Vene- 
tians and  the  Spaniards — whom  he  venerated.  Even 
now,  only  seven  years  after  his  death,  he  is  regarded 


PABLO  PICASSO  AND  CUBISM 


9 


by  many  of  the  most  discerning  spirits  of  our  age  as 
at  least  a demi-classic  who  had  the  root  of  the  matter 
in  him  and  therefore  worthy  to  be  ranked  with  the 
elect.  He  was  perhaps  the  last  great  painter  whose 
work  has  in  it  something  of  the  grand  manner,  a cer- 
tain severity  of  style  that  inevitably  recalls  El  Greco 
and  the  Primitives  with  whom  he  has  much  in  common. 
At  all  events  it  would  seem  that  he  carried  realism  to 
its  ultimate  limits  and  that  art  can  go  no  further  in 
this  direction  but  must  turn  back  upon  itself  or  seek 
new  channels  of  expression. 

This  is  exactly  what  has  happened  in  the  person 
of  Pablo  Picasso,  a Spaniard  from  Malaga,  whose  ad- 
vent marks  the  parting  of  the  ways.  His  whole  ten- 
dency is  a negation  of  the  main  tenets  of  the  gospel 
of  Cezanne  whose  conception  of  form  he  rejects  to- 
gether with  Monet’s  conception  of  light  and  color.  To 
him  both  are  non-existent.  Instead  he  endeavors  “to 
produce  with  his  work  an  impression,  not  with  the 
subject  but  the  manner  in  which  he  expresses  it,”  to 
quote  his  confrere,  Marius  De  Zayas,  who  studied  the 
raison  d'etre  of  this  work  together  with  Picasso 
himself. 

Describing  his  process  of  esthetic  deduction 
further  M.  De  Zayas  tells  us  that:  “He  (Picasso) 
receives  a direct  impression  from  external  nature ; he 
analyzes,  develops,  and  translates  it,  and  afterwards 
executes  it  in  his  own  particular  style,  with  the  inten- 
tion that  the  picture  should  be  the  pictorial  equivalent 
of  the  emotion  produced  by  nature.  In  presenting  his 
work  he  wants  the  spectator  to  look  for  the  emotion 
or  idea  generated  from  the  spectacle  and  not  the  spec- 
tacle itself. 

From  this  to  the  psychology  of  form  there  is  but 
one  step,  and  the  artist  has  given  it  resolutely  and 
deliberately.  Instead  of  the  physical  manifestation  he 


10 


IS  IT  ABTf 


seeks  in  form  the  psychic  one,  and  on  account  of 
his  peculiar  temperament,  his  psychical  manifestation 
inspires  him  with  geometrical  sensations. 

When  he  paints  he  does  not  limit  himself  to  taking 
from  an  object  only  those  planes  which  the  eye  per- 
ceives, but  deals  with  all  those  which  according  to  him 
constitute  the  individuality  of  form;  and  with  his 
peculiar  fantasy  he  develops  and  transforms  them. 

And  this  suggests  to  him  new  impressions,  which 
he  manifests  with  new  forms,  because  from  the  idea 
of  the  representation  of  a being,  a new  being  is  born, 
perhaps  different  from  the  first  one,  and  this  becomes 
the  represented  being. 

Each  one  of  his  paintings  is  the  coefficient  of  the 
impressions  that  form  has  performed  in  his  spirit,  and 
in  these  paintings  the  public  must  see  the  realization 
of  an  artistic  ideal,  and  must  judge  them  by  the  ab- 
stract sensation  they  produce,  without  trying  to  look 
for  the  factors  that  entered  into  the  composition  of 
the  final  result. 

As  it  is  not  his  purpose  to  perpetuate  on  canvas  an 
aspect  of  the  external  world,  by  which  to  produce  an 
artistic  impression,  but  to  represent  with  the  brush 
the  impression  he  has  directly  received  from  nature, 
synthesized  by  his  fantasy,  he  does  not  put  on  the 
canvas  the  remembrance  of  a past  sensation,  but  des- 
cribes a present  sensation 

In  his  paintings  perspective  does  not  exist;  in 
them  there  are  nothing  but  harmonies  suggested  by 
form,  and  registers  which  succeed  themselves  to  com- 
pose a general  harmony  which  fills  the  rectangle  that 
constitutes  the  picture. 

Following  the  same  philosophical  system  in  deal- 
ing with  light,  as  the  one  he  follows  in  regard  to 
form,  to  him  color  does  not  exist,  but  only  the  effects 


PABLO  PICA880  AND  CUBI8M 


11 


of  light.  This  produces  in  matter  certain  vibrations, 
which  produce  in  the  individual  certain  impressions. 

From  this  it  results,  that  Picasso’s  paintings 
present  to  us  the  evolution  by  which  light  and  form 
have  operated  in  developing  themselves  in  his  brain 
to  produce  the  idea,  and  his  composition  is  nothing 
but  the  synthetic  expression  of  his  emotion.” 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  he  tries  to  represent  in 
essence  what  seems  to  exist  only  in  substance.  And, 
inasmuch  as  his  psychical  impressions  inspire  in  him 
geometrical  sensations,  certain  of  these  exhibits  are  in 
the  nature  of  geometrical  abstractions  that  have  little 
or  nothing  in  common  with  anything  hitherto  pro- 
duced in  art.  Its  whole  tendency  would  appear  to  be 
away  from  art  into  the  realm  of  metaphysics. 

Here  is  a design,  a pattern  of  triangles,  ellipses 
and  semi-circles  that  at  first  glance  appears  to  be 
little  more  than  the  incoherent  passage  of  a compass 
across  the  paper  in  the  hands  of  some  absent-minded 
engineer.  After  a little  attentive  study,  however,  these 
enigmatic  lines  resolve  themselves  into  the  semblance 
of  a human  figure  and  one  begins  to  discover  a clearly 
defined  intention  behind  this  apparent  chaos  of  ideated 
sensations. 

And  when  you  have  made  this  interesting  dis- 
covery of  this  something  that  has  the  semblance  of  a 
human  being  you  will  also  have  discovered  the  inherent 
contradiction  in  this  work  which  attempts  to  evoke  an 
impression  of  an  object  by  means  of  an  objective  ren- 
dering of  it  that  makes  the  artist  as  much  a slave  to 
the  model  as  was  ever  the  old  masters.  Take  their 
portraits,  for  example.  There  you  will  find  an  eye, 
the  eye  of  the  person  depicted.  And  whether  this  eye 
is  made  diamond-shaped— with  angels,  in  cubes — or 
round  like  an  orb,  what  does  it  really  matter?  The 
essential  idea  and  attempt  is  the  same. 


12 


IS  ITARTf 


Thus  one  finds  a number  of  these  followers  of 
Picasso  making  a desperate  effort  at  abstraction  by 
reducing  all  natural  forms  to  a system  of  cubism,  (than 
which  there  is  nothing  more  concrete  and  mathema- 
tically matter-of-fact)  and  at  the  same  time  vainly 
retaining  a slender  hold  on  actuality  by  labelling  this 
arbitrary  arrangement  of  cubes  with  a concrete  title 
such  as  “A  Procession  in  Seville”  or  a “Souvenir  of 
Grimalde,  Italy,”  as  does  Mr.  Picabia  as  well  as 
Picasso,  whose  “Woman  with  a Pot  of  Mustard”  is 
one  of  the  most  engaging  puzzles  of  a very  puzzling 
art.  This  is  sharply  emphasized  by  the  delight  and 
pride  of  every  spectator  who  is  successful  in  solving 
the  puzzle  by  finding  in  these  enigmatic  charts  some 
sort  of  a tangible,  pictorial  justification  of  the  title 
appended  thereto. 

It  will  be  seen  therefore  that  the  efforts  of  these 
men  to  give  a subjective  rendering  of  actuality  results 
in  nothing  better  than  a poorly  realized  form  of  object- 
ivity which  is  as  much  the  creation  of  the  spectator  as  of 
the  artist,  inasmuch  as  the  vaguely  adumbrated  forms 
in  the  picture  simply  serve  as  a hint  to  that  reality 
of  which  it  is  a wilfully  distorted  symbol,  and  the 
discovery  of  the  “mustard  pot”  would  scarcely  have 
been  possible  without  the  happy  cooperation  of  the  title 
with  the  spectator’s  previous  knowledge  of  the  actual 
appearance  of  a mustard  pot. 

Without  the  intervention  of  the  title  and  the  asso- 
ciation of  ideas  called  forth  thereby  through  the 
memory  of  past  experiences  with  actuality  these  pic- 
tures would  be  totally  meaningless  even  to  the  most 
recondite.  They  would  inevitably  be  reduced  to  a per- 
sonal system  of  short  hand,  an  individual  code  as  it 
were,  comprehensible  only  to  the  originator. 

Regarded  from  that  viewpoint  these  enigmatic 
paintings  and  drawings  may  very  possibly  be  alto- 


TEE  PARTING  OF  TEE  WAYS 


13 


gether  successful.  At  all  events  it  is  only  fair  to 
assume  that  these  works  express  to  the  originator 
what  he  intended  them  to  express.  But  it  is  quite 
obvious  that  they  express  something  quite  different  to 
the  spectator  who  has  not  been  initiated  into  the  mean- 
ing of  this  personal  form  of  shorthand,  and  the  append- 
ing of  an  objective  title  to  what  is  intended  as  a sub- 
jective impression  of  the  actual  world  hardly  help 
him  over  the  difficulty.  On  the  contrary  it  takes  him 
just  that  far  away  from  the  impression  the  artist 
desires  to  produce,  plunging  him  deeper  into  that 
world  of  reality  out  of  which  he  was  to  be  extricated 
by  this  new  art,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  in  the 
minds  of  even  the  most  intelligent  spectator  it  only 
serves  to  reenforce  his  conception  of  reality  upon 
which  he  is  forced  to  fall  back  by  the  objective  titles 
as  well  as  the  concrete  representations  of  what  is  sup- 
posed to  be  a subjective  mood. 

I think  it  may  safely  be  said  that  in  no  case  does 
this  mood  manifest  itseK  to  the  persons  to  whom  it 
is  addressed,  although  by  a process  of  auto-hypnotism 
a certain  few  no  doubt  succeed  in  making  themselves 
believe  that  they  penetrate  the  real  inwardness  of 
these  arbitrarily  individual  mental  processes.  Granted 
that  these  very  discerning  ones  do  respond  to  the  real 
intention  of  these  abstractions  it  cannot  be  denied  that 
this  work  is  the  most  circumscribed  in  its  appeal  of 
anything  so  far  produced  in  the  name  of  art  and,  until 
its  working  premise  is  made  clearer,  its  influence  must 
be  correspondingly  limited.  At  present  it  appears  to 
me  to  be  a too  purely  personal  equation  to  be  intel- 
ligible to  others  than  the  artist  himself  and  therefore, 
generally  speaking,  it  can  not  be  regarded  as  art, 
whatever  else  it  may  be. 

For  that  that  communicates  nothing  expresses 
nothing  and  as  the  office  of  art  is  first  and  last  expres- 


n 


IS  I T A B T? 


sion  this  new  form  is  as  yet  outside  of  the  domain 
of  art.  These  artists  remain  searchers  in  the  realms 
of  science  and  methaphysics  which  they  would  annex 
to  the  domain  of  art  which  has  become  too  circum- 
scribed for  their  ambitious  strivings  after  a more  com- 
pletely individual  form  of  self-expression.  As  the 
Futurists  say  in  one  of  their  recent  manifestos  in  which 
they  proceed  to  formulate  a new  art  creed : 

‘‘Our  growing  art/’  it  says,  “can  no  longer  be 
^satisfied  with  form  and  color ; what  we  wish  to  produce 
on  canvas  will  no  longer  be  one  fixed  instant  of  uni- 
versal dynamism ; it  will  simply  be  the  dynamic  sensa- 
tion itself. 

“Everything  is  movement,  transformation.  A 
profile  is  never  motionless,  but  is  constantly  varying. 
'Objects  in  movement  multiply  themselves,  become  de- 
formed in  pursuing  each  other,  like  hurried  vibrations. 
For  instance,  a runaway  horse  has  not  four  legs,  but 
twenty,  and  their  movement  is  triangular.  In  art  all 
is  conventional,  nothing  is  absolute.  That  which  yes- 
terday was  a truth  to-day  is  nothing  but  a lie. 

“We  declare,  for  instance,  that  a portrait  must 
not  resemble  its  model  and  that  a painter  must  draw 
from  his  own  inspiration  the  landscape  he  wishes  to 
fix  on  canvas.  To  paint  a human  face  one  must  not 
only  reproduce  the  features,  but  also  the  surrounding 
atmosphere. 

“Space  no  longer  exists;  in  fact,  the  pavement 
of  a street  soaked  by  rain  beneath  the  dazzle  of  electric 
lamps  grows  immensely  hollow  down  to  the  centre 
of  the  earth. 

“Thousands  of  miles  divide  us  from  the  sun,  but 
that  does  not  prevent  the  house  before  us  being  in- 
cased in  the  solar  disk. 

“Who  can  believe  in  the  opaqueness  of  bodies 
since  our  sensibilities  have  become  sharpened  and  mul- 


TENETS  OF  FUTURISM 


15 


tiplied  through  the  obscure  manifestations  of  medium- 
nity? 

‘‘Why  do  we  forget  in  our  creations  the  double 
power  of  our  sight  with  its  scope  of  vision  almost  equal 
in  power  to  that  of  X-rays? 

“It  will  be  enough  to  cite  a few  of  the  innumer- 
able examples  which  prove  our  statements. 

“The  sixteen  persons  around  you  in  a tramcar  are 
by  turn  and  at  one  and  the  same  time  one,  ten,  four, 
three,  they  are  motionless  yet  change  places ; they  come 
and  go,  are  abruptly  devoured  by  the  sun,  yet  all  the 
time  are  sitting  before  us  and  could  serve  as  symbols 
of  universal  vibration.  How  often,  while  talking  to  a 
friend  do  we  see  on  his  cheek  the  reflection  of  the 
horse  passing  far  off  at  the  top  of  the  street.  Our 
bodies  enter  the  sofa  on  which  we  sit  and  the  sofa 
becomes  part  of  our  body.  The  tramway  is  engulfed 
in  the  house  it  passes  and  the  houses  rush  on  the  tram- 
way and  melt  with  it.  The  construction  of  pictures 
has  hitherto  been  stupidly  conventional.  The  painters 
have  always  depicted  the  objects  and  persons  as  being 
in  front  of  us.  Henceforth  the  spectator  will  be  in 
the  centre  of  the  picture.  In  all  domains  of  the  human 
spirit  a clearsighted,  individual  inquiry  has  swept 
away  the  obscurities  of  dogma.  So  also  the  life-giving 
tide  of  science  must  free  painting  from  the  bonds  of 
academic  tradition.  We  must  be  born  again.  Has 
not  science  disowned  her  past  in  order  better  to  satisfy 
the  material  needs  of  our  day?  So  must  art  deny  her 
past  in  order  to  satisfy  our  modern  intellectual  needs. 

“To  our  renewed  consciousness  man  is  no  longer 
the  centre  of  universal  life.  The  suffering  of  a man 
is  as  interesting  in  our  eyes  as  the  pain  of  an  electric 
lamp  which  suffers  with  spasmodic  starts  and  shrieks, 
with  the  most  heart-rending  expressions  of  color.  The 
harmony  of  the  lines  and  folds  of  a contemporary 


16 


IS  ITARTf 


costume  exercises  on  our  sensibility  the  same  stirring 
and  symbolic  power  as  nudity  did  to  the  ancients. 

“To  understand  the  beauties  of  a futurist  picture 
the  soul  must  be  purified  and  the  eye  delivered  from 
the  veil  of  atavism  and  culture ; go  to  nature  and  to 
museums.  When  this  result  is  obtained  it  will  be 
perceived  that  brown  has  never  circulated  beneath  our 
epidermis,  that  yellow  shines  in  our  flesh,  that  red 
flashes,  and  that  green,  blue  and  violet  dance  there  with 
voluptuous  and  winning  graces.  How  can  one  still 
see  pink  in  the  human  face,  when  our  life  doubled  by 
nocturnal  life  has  multiplied  our  colorists’  percep- 
tions? The  human  face  flashes  of  red,  yellow,  green, 
blue,  and  violet.  The  pallor  of  a woman  gazing  at 
a jeweler’s  shop  window  has  rainbow  hues  more  in- 
tense that  the  flashes  of  the  jewels  which  fascinate 
her  like  a lark. 

“Our  ideas  on  painting  can  no  longer  be  whis- 
pered, but  must  be  sung  and  must  ring  on  our  canvases 
like  triumphant  fanfares.  Our  eves,  accustomed  to 
twilight,  will  soon  be  dazzled  by  the  full  light  of  day. 
Our  shadows  will  be  more  brilliant  than  the  strongest 
light  of  our  predecessors,  and  our  pictures  beside  those 
in  museums  will  shine  as  a blinding  day  compared  to 
a gloomy  night.  "We  now  conclude  that  now-a-days 
there  can  exist  no  painting  without  divisionism. 
It  is  not  a question  of  a process  which  can  be 
learned  and  applied  freely.  Divisionism  for  the 
modern  painter  must  be  inborn  complementarism, 
which  we  declare  to  be  essential  and  necessary. 

“Our  art  will  probably  be  accused  of  decadence 
or  lunacy,  but  we  shall  simply  answer  that,  on  the  con- 
trary, we  are  primitives  with  quickened  sensibilities, 
and  that  our  art  is  spontaneous  and  powerful.” 

The  futurists  proceed  to  make  the  following 
“declaration” ; 


TENETS  OF  FUTURISM 


17 


That  all  forms  of  imitation  must  be  despised  and  all 
forms  of  originality  glorified; 

That  we  must  rebel  against  the  tyranny,  harmony  and 
good  taste,  which  could  easily  condemn  the  works  of 
Rembrandt,  Goya,  and  Rodin; 

That  art  critics  are  useless  or  harmful; 

That  all  worn-out  subjects  must  be  swept  away,  in 
order  that  we  may  have  scope  for  the  expression  of  our 
stormy  life  of  steel,  pride,  fever,  and  swiftness; 

That  the  name  of  madmen  with  which  they  try  to 
hamper  innovators,  shall  henceforth  be  considered  a title 
of  honor; 

That  inborn  eomplimentarism  is  an  absolute  neccessity 
in  painting  as  free  verse  in  poetry  and  polyphony  in  music; 

That  universal  dynamism  must  be  rendered  in  painting 
as  a dynamic  sensation; 

That  above  all  sincerity  and  purity  are  required  in 
the  portrayal  of  nature; 

That  movement  and  light  destroy  the  materiality  of 
bodies. 

“We  fight,”  say  the  signers  of  the  manifesto. 

Against  the  bituminous  colors  with  which  one  struggles 
to  obtain  the  patin  of  time  on  modern  pictures; 

Against  superficial  and  elementary  archaism  founded 
on  flat  uniform  tints  and  which,  imitating  the  linear  manner 
of  the  Egyptians,  reduces  painting  to  an  impotent  childish 
and  grotesque  synthesis; 

Against  the  false  avenirism  of  secessionists  and 
independents,  who  have  installed  new  academies  as 
traditional  as  the  former  ones; 

Against  nudity  in  painting  as  nauseous  and  tiring  as 
adultery  in  literature. 

“Let  us,”  the  Futurists  conclude,  “explain  this 
last  question.  There  is  nothing  immoral  in  our  eyes; 
it  is  the  monotony  of  nudity  that  we  fight  against.  It 
is  said  subject  is  nothing,  and  all  depends  upon  the 
way  of  treating  it.  Granted.  We  also  admit  it.  But 
this  truth  which  was  objectionable  and  absolute  fifty 
years  ago  is  no  longer  so  to-day  as  to  nudity,  since 
painters  beset  by  the  longing  to  reproduce  on  canvas 
the  bodies  of  their  lady  loves  have  transformed  exhibi- 
tions into  fairs  of  rotten  hams!  We  require  during  the 
next  ten  years  the  total  suppression  of  nudity  in 
painting  1 ’ ^ 

And  to  demonstrate  their  complete  freedom  from 


18 


IS  I T ART? 


that  petty  consistency  which  is  the  bugbear  of  small 
minds,  Marcel  Duchamp,  one  of  the  most  discussed  ex- 
ponents of  futurism,  though  not  officially  affilliated 
with  the  main  group,  promptly  presents  us  with  a 
“Nude  Descending  Stairway”  which  looks  for  all  the 
world  like  “an  explosion  in  a shingle  yard”  as  one 
observer  aptly  called  it  when  it  was  shown  in  New  York. 

Out  of  this  chaos  of  over-lapping  flat  planes  that 
look  like  a pack  of  cards  spread  out,  the  spectator 
is  supposed  to  resolve  a “Nude  Descending  Stair- 
way,” which,  by  reason  of  its  manner  of  presentation, 
is  calculated  to  give  one  a sense  of  progressive  motion 
such  as  the  succession  of  images  in  a moving  picture 
produce.  But  instead  of  a sense  of  movement  one 
simply  is  conscious  of  a series  of  flat  figures,  one  over- 
lapping the  other,  the  sum  total  of  which  remains  no 
less  fixed  than  each  separate  unit  and  the  attempt  to 
achieve  an  illusion  of  motion  without  the  concomitant 
physical  and  mechanical  means  employed  by  a moving 
picture  results  in  an  amusing  failure,  very  entertain- 
ing as  a new  kind  of  parlor  game  but  of  very  little 
value  as  art.  But  admitting  that  this  kinetoscopic 
arrangement  of  surfaces  does  produce  in  the  minds  of 
certain  spectators  a sense  of  motion,  it  must  be  con- 
ceded that  this,  regarded  as  an  end  in  itself,  is  a very 
puerile  use  of  art  and  in  no  sense  an  amplification  of 
its  possibilities. 

The  Japanese  long  ago  succeeded  in  solving  this 
visual  problem  of  movement  in  art,  but  with  them  it 
never  degenerated  into  being  practiced  and  accepted 
as  an  end  in  itself;  it  was  only  one  of  the  means 
employed  to  give  a highthened  sense  of  the  fluidity  of 
life. 

Moreover,  if  we  of  to-day  desire  to  be  thrilled  by  a 
vivid  impression  of  motion  we  have  only  to  face  an 
onrushing  express  train  coming  toward  us  at  top 


SELF-MADE  GENIUSES 


19 


speed,  or  if  it  requires  a girating  kaleidoscopic  motion 
to  stir  our  sensibilities  into  activity  one  needs  only 
walk  up  Broadway  (or  any  other  main  thoroughfare 
in  the  large  cities  of  the  country)  of  an  evening  and 
I venture  to  say  you  will  be  more  be-dazzled  in  five 
minutes  of  concentrated  attention  on  the  moving  elec- 
tric signs  than  in  an  hour  with  the  most  extreme 
Futurist. 

Certain  of  these  vain  strivings  after  originality 
are  no  doubt  based  upon  the  effects  of  color  and  mo- 
tion produced  in  a kaleidoscope,  and  again  one  feels 
the  absence  of  the  particular  quality  that  gives  in- 
terest to  the  object  copied,  namely:  the  purity  and 
transparency  of  color  and  the  constantly  changing 
pattern  of  color  made  by  turning  the  kaleidoscope 
which  is  its  chief  charm  and  source  of  pleasure.  In 
attempting  to  simulate  this  effect  they  have  overlap 
ped  filmy  veils  of  vivid  color  that  of  course  remain 
fixed,  arbitrary  patterns  and  in  nowise  give  one  the 
sensations  produced  by  a kaleidoscope. 

This  movement  has  gained  its  impetus  largely 
from  the  very  general  revolt  against  materialism  that 
is  substituting  a new  individualism  for  the  old  realism 
and  I have  no  doubt  that  some  of  these  men  are  sin- 
cerely and  earnestly  trying  to  discover  a new  form 
that  shall  express  with  greater  intensity  the  new  feel- 
ings and  emotions  aroused  in  man  by  all  the  objects 
in  the  natural  world.  But  I have  even  less  doubt  that 
a very  large  number  of  the  men  who  are  its  chief 
pontiffs  are  moved  by  nothing  more  laudible  than  a 
desire  for  reclame  and  quick  financial  returns.  They 
have  so  far  been  eminently  successful  in  both,  once 
more  proving  the  truth  of  P.  T.  Barnum’s  well  known 
dictum  that:  ^‘The  Public  loves  to  be  hum-buged” 
which  recalls  Camille  Mauelair’s  delightful  little  story 
about  the  enterprising  Palombaro,  recently  published  in 


20 


IS  I T A B Tf 


“Comgedia”.  Palombaro  is  one  of  those  heaven-sent 
geniuses  whose  inspired  productions  have  made  the 
fame  and  fortune  of  certain  critics,  collectors  and 
discerning  dealers,  all  of  whom  are  sympathetically 
characterized  by  the  gentle  pen  of  Mauclair  in  the 
following  ironical  account  of  an  imaginary  but  very 
possible  occurence : 

‘ ‘ Grondin,  nervous  and  disheartened  paced  up  and 
down  his  picture  shop.  Everything  there  was  spic  and 
span;  but  nevertheless  he  called  the  boy  and  ordered 
him  to  give  everything  a final  touch.  And  in  the  nick 
of  time  he  discovered  that  he  had  kept  under 
his  arm,  through  an  old  and  useful,  tho’  inel- 
egant custom  of  his  whilom  profession,  a napkin,  of 
which  he  now  quickly  rid  himself.  Satisfied  at  last  he 
glanced  at  the  new  violet  rosette,  which  orna- 
mented his  lappel,  and  waited.  — Grondin  was  about 
to  receive  a visit  from  a group  of  important  admirers 
of  a young  Italian  futurist,  Giuseppe  Palombaro,  who 
were  going  to  introduce  to  him  the  man  and  his  works, 
which  would  honor  his  gallery  by  its  being  chosen 
among  the  many  as  a shelter  for  their  exposition. 
A great  affair,  a big  advertisement,  large  profits  and 
new  lustre  for  the  firm  of  Grondin,  already  well  known 
as  the  hotbed  of  coming  genius ! 

The  arrival  was  most  imposing.  Pour  automobiles 
stopped  at  the  door,  three  taxis  and  one  limousine. 
From  the  latter  emerged  first  its  owner,  the  celebrated 
collector,  Alcide  Gluant,  then,  Rutilant,  the  celebrated 
critic  of  priemeres,  Matois  the  merchant,  and  finally 
Palombaro  the  master.  Prom  the  other  vehicles  issued 
the  members  of  the  Committee  of  the  International 
Exposition  of  the  ‘^Sans  Principes’’,  who  were  to  act 
as  patrons  for  the  Exposition  of  Palombaro ’s  pictures. 
They  comprised  the  Englishman  Green  Cheese,  the 
German  Hundsfott,  authorized  representative  of  the 


SELF-MADE  GENIUSES 


21 


firm  Pigson  & Hundsfott  experts,  the  Frenchman 
Exigut,  the  “wild”  painter,  whose  tall  figure  domin- 
ated the  group,  a fat  Turk  named  Chetif-bey,  who 
popularized  Cubism  at  Stambol,  Pomposo,  the  little 
Milanese  sculptor  and  the  sallow  Spaniard  who  was 
seen  everywhere,  of  whom  neither  name  nor  picture 
was  known,  and  of  whom  the  only  thing  known  was 
that  he  descended  from  Greco  by  his  women  folks.  And 
these  different  people  hurriedly  put  down  a number 
of  pictures  which  had  been  brought  by  them  in  the 
taxis  and  arranged  them  in  order  whilst  Grondin  heaped 
compliments  upon  Kutilant,  Gluant  and  Palombaro. 
The  face  of  the  latter  piqued  him  without  his  knowing 
why,  and  in  his  stubborn  memory  he  kept  comparing 
it  with  vague  recollections. 

But  he  must  examine  the  pictures.  The  Committee 
was  ranged  before  them  in  silence.  It  seemed  as  if 
upon  the  walls  of  the  gallery  there  had  suddenly  been 
arranged  squares  of  fayence-ware  of  many  colors  for 
the  decoration  of  a shower  bath  in  an  insane  asylum. 
Assuredly  nothing  like  it  had  ever  been  seen  before 
and  the  effect  was  immense.  Rutilant,  who  was  going 
to  write  the  preface,  shook  his  fist  and  gnawed  at  his 
mustache.  He  had  dined  well  at  Gluant ’s  and  his  face 
was  flushed..  Finally  he  burst  out : 

“Good  Lord;  how  beautiful  it  is.  Where  is  the 
man  who  will  not  think  that  beautiful  ? ’ ’ 

He  certainly  was  not  present,  for  these  gentlemen 
delivered  themselves  of  the  following  opinions ; 

“Perfect,”  said  Exigut. 

“Collosal,”  said  Hundsfott. 

“Soave!”  piped  Pomposo. 

“Very  good,”  acquiesced  Cheese. 

“That  will  fetch  big  prices,”  murmured  Matois. 

Chetif-bey  and  the  descendant  of  Greco  were  moved 


IS  I T ART? 


but  silent.  Alcide  Gluant  touched  Eutilant’s  shoulder 
and  said  maliciously : 

“What?  My  dear  friend  and  to  think  that  we 
wasted  time  supporting  Monet  and  Eenoir.  Well,  we 
were  youg  then.” 

“Pooh!”  answered  Eutilant.  Those  were  only 
vain  stammerings  compared  to  these  marvels,  but  at 
that  time  it  was  something  new.  When  one  is  indepen- 
dent from  birth  and  a discoverer  of  genius,  remember 
gentlemen  one  must  always  be  discovering  something. 
A discoverer,  who  does  not  discover  anything  more,  is- 
only  fit  to  be  thrown  to  the  dogs.  As  for  me,  I have 
discovered  something  every  year  for  the  last  thirty 
years,  and  have  not  finished  yet.  I arrogated  this 
public  duty  to  myself.” 

“And  it  is  yours  by  right  of  genius,”  insinuated 
Gluant. 

“Do  not  exaggerate,  my  dear  friend;  but  having- 
mixed  myself  up  with  art-criticism,  I should  have 
preferred  to  be  a scavenger  rather  than  fall  into  the 
torpid  idiocy  of  the  Promentins,  the  Charles  Blancs 
and  the  Theophile  Gautiers  and  other  ignoramuses. 
I have  accomplished  my  difficult  and  beneficent  task 
because  I was  the  only  judge  of  art  of  my  century. 
I managed  the  cudgel,  the  necessary  cudgel ...  I am 
sensitive  and  have  a feeling  of  integrity,  that  is  all. 
And  now  Monsieur  Grondin,  I am  going  to  write  a 
preface  for  you  which  I intend  shall  be  a thundering 
one,  do  you  understand?  I count  on  you  to  receive  the 
Assistant  Secretary  of  State,  as  he  deserves  to  be.  It 
certainly  is  to  laugh  or  to  howl  if  one  believes  that 
such  people  are  still  needed,  but  what  can  one  do? 
Noble  Anarchy  reigns  as  yet  only  in  paintings . . . 
I hope  that  you  will  teach  this  gentleman  a lesson  and 
that  he  will  buy  at  least  one  of  these  masterpieces  for 


SELF-MADE  GENIUSES 


the  Luxembourg,  to  make  up  for  all  the  dirty  stuff 
put  there.  You  are  not  going  to  let  him  bluff  you?’’ 

“Oh,  no,”  said  Grondin,  the  Assistant  Secretary 
of  State  is  really  very  nice.  He  comes  here  sometimes 
to  see  what  is  going  on.  Yesterday  he  even  spoke  to 
me  of  Delacroix ...” 

“They  still  talk  of  that!  What  fossils!”  exclaimed 
Rutilant,  slapping  his  thighs  with  his  strong  hands 
covered  with  red  hair. 

General  hilarity  followed.  Chetif-bey  whispered 
in  Hundsfott’s  ear: 

“I  did  not  understand...” 

“They  are  speaking  of  the  old  man  who  painted 
the  massacres  of  Scio ...” 

“Oh,  yes,”  said  Chetif-bey,  “you  would  have  had 
more  work  at  Adana  ...” 

“Then,”  continued  Grondin,  “I  answered:  ‘But 
Mr.  Assistant  Secretary  of  State,  you  know . . . they 
don’t  give  a rap  far  Delacroix.  Delacroix  didn’t  know 
beans  about  designing...’  He  looked  astonished,  but 
nevertheless  he  did  not  dare  strike  back ...  I beg  your 
pardon,  gentlemen,  I mean  to  say ...” 

“No,  no,  Grondin,”  took  up  Rutilant,”  I like  the 
old  realistic  saying.  I see  that  Mr.  Palombaro’s  inter- 
ests will  be  in  good  hands  here,  don’t  you  think  so, 
gentlemen?  And  there  will  be  a crowd  and  the  common 
people  will  bray,  and  it  will  be  a fine  victory  for  all 
of  us  and  for  the  international  exposition  of  the  ‘ Sans- 
Principes’.  By  Jove!  One  is  independent  or  one  is  not. 
There  will  be  a fight  and  the  day  will  come  when  all 
their  dirty  museums,  which  are  strongholds  of  obscur- 
antism will  be  set  on  fire.  There  will  be  nothing, 
nothing  else  left  but  free  art ! ’ ’ 

“My  dear  friend,”  softly  said  Gluant,  “there  will 
remain  the  private  collections ...” 

“And,  we,  the  dealers,”  whispered  Matois  to 


IS  I T A B T? 


Hundsfott.  “He  is  a surprising  fellow,  is  Rutilant. 
Neverthless  we  are  able  to  compel  the  critics ...” 

“Never  mind,”  answered  Hundsfott,  “Rutilant  al- 
ways gets  excited,  but  he  is  a friend ; he  understands  ; 
he  brings  me  quite  some  people  ...” 

“Gentlemen,”  cried  Rutilant,  “hurrah  for  Palom- 
baro.  ’ ’ 

After  this  cry,  repeated  by  all  present,  the  meet- 
ing was  adjourned  and  everybody  proceeded  to  the 
door.  Grondin  conducted  them,  charmed,  profusely 
distributing  his  smiles  and  handshakes.  When  he 
returned,  he  noticed  that  the  futurist  had  remained. 
Up  to  now  Palombaro  had  not  uttered  one  word; 
Grondin  looked  at  him  curiously.  The  painter,  un- 
disturbed, correct,  smiled  from  the  corners  of  his  care- 
fully shaven  thin  lips. 

“You  doubtless  wish  to  speak  of  some  material 
details ? ’ ’ said  Grondin  ...  “I  am  at  your  disposal,  now 
that  these  gentlemen . . . but  you  see  I cannot  tell  why, 
but  I have  a persistent  impression  of  having  met  you,  of 
having  known  you  before  ...” 

“That  must  date,”  said  Giuseppe  Palombaro 
quietly,  “from  the  time  when,  before  establishing 
yourself  as  a dealer  of  paintings  and  before  not  giving 
a rap  for  Delacroix,  you  were  restauranteur  on  the 
Place  Cambronne.  — Not  a restorer  ...  of  paintings  . . .” 

“In  fact  I . . . I . . but  I prefer  that  this  ...” 

“There  is  no  harm  in  that,  Mr.  Grondin;  you  had 
a fine  house,  well  recommended,  and  a very  renowned 
Villaudric  claret.  It  was  the  latter  which  caused  our 
disagreement.  I took  a trifle  too  much  of  it,  and  you 
put  me  out.  Only,  if  you  had  artistic  aspirations,  so 
had  I . . . now  don’t  faint,  Mr.  Grondin.  At  that  time 
a black  beard  covered  my  whole  face,  American  style, 
and  that  is  why  you  do  not  recognize  me ...  I am 
Joseph,  your  former  dishwasher.  Well,  you  see,  I had 


KADIN8KTS  IMPROVISATIONS 


25 


already  daubed  some,  but  when  I got  to  Milan  I started 
to  paint.  After  having  tossed  about,  I finally  got  a job 
there  at  a spaghetti  merchant’s  and  it  was  there  that 
the  idea  struck  me.  My  technique?  Why  it  was  the 
spaghetti,  colored.  The  advance  guard  painting  is  not 
so  very  difficult ; I learned  the  jargon,  I saw  some  cubists 
and  I chose  a ‘nom  de  guerre’;  Giuseppe  sounds  better 
than  Joseph,  and  Palombaro  means  ‘plongeur’  (diver, 
a slang  name  for  dishwasher).  I slipped  in  and,  luck 
helping  me,  in  two  seasons  . . . there  you  are  ...” 

Grondin  remained  dumbfounded.  Palombaro 
continued  quietly. 

“I  speak  Italiano,  but  neverthless  when  one  comes 
from  Granelle,  it  is  for  all  one’s  life.  I was  born  to 
succeed,  I was.  You  see  how  simple  it  is;  there  are 
more  unusual  things.  You  and  I understand  each  other 
perfectly;  it  is  to  our  interest  to  say  nothing  about 
this;  especially  to  Rutilant.  He  poses  as  an  anarchist, 
that  fellow ...  ‘A  Dishwasher,  who  Became  a Great 
Painter’,  would  be  a capital  subject  for  a smashing 
article  for  him : the  people  here,  and  the  right  to  beauty 
there  and  all . . . such  rot.  As  if,  at  the  ‘ Independents  ’, 
they  had  not  a little  of  everything:  Custom  house 
officers,  counter  jumpers,  janitors,  who  amuse  them- 
selves with  painting...  hah!  that  would ’t  do  at  all.  You 
have  a very  ‘chic’  gallery,  I want  to  be  ‘chic’,  and  as 
to  the  people,  oh  piffle  1 Therefore,  both  for  you  and 
me,  it  is  better  to  keep  mum,  don’t  you  think  so,  Mr. 
Grondin?..” 

The  most  consistent,  if  not  successful,  of  all  these 
attempts  at  abstraction  are  no  doubt  the  “Improvisa- 
tions” by  Wassily  Kadinsky,  who  has  had  the  good 
sense  to  abandon  all  idea  of  representation  in  his  pic- 
tures as  well  as  in  the  titles.  He  is  content  to  let  color 
alone  serve  his  purpose  and  this  is  apportioned  and 


IS  ITABTf 


juxtaposed  in  various  formless  masses  according  to 
his  conception  of  its  emotional  value. 

It  may  be  anything  under  heaven  or  earth  that 
you  wish  to  imagine  it  but  he  creates  neither  boundary 
posts  nor  sign  posts.  He  takes  you  into  the  Terra  In- 
cognita of  art  and  if  you  get  lost  that  is  your  own 
lookout.  And  after  you  have  thought  of  everything 
under  heaven  and  earth  and  found  it  unrelated  to  Mr. 
Kadinsky^s  picture  you  finally  think  of  nothing  what- 
ever, and  that  perhaps  is  the  artist’s  real  triumph 
inasmuch  as  his  work  is  a negation  of  all  the  elements 
hitherto  regarded  as  essential  components  of  a work 
of  plastic  art. 

He  attempts  to  produce  with  color  the  sensations 
produced  by  music.  As  far  as  I am  concerned  he  fails 
and  I think  he  is  bound  to  fail  with  most  people,  for 
I believe  the  sensations  produced  by  these  two  arts 
are  as  distinct  and  separate  as  are  the  organs  of  sight 
and  hearing,  notwithstanding  Ruskin’s  poetic  chacteri- 
zation  of  architecture  as  ‘‘frozen  music,”  which  in  it- 
self is  as  anomalous  and  paradoxical  as  the  present 
atempts  of  certain  men  to  substitute  one  art  for 
another. 

Generically,  these  two  arts — music  and  the  plastic 
arts — are  at  variance  with  each  other,  and  what  gives 
life  to  the  one  is  the  death  of  the  other.  The  first 
is  fiuent  and  transitory  while  the  latter  is  static  and 
enduring.  Music  does  not  begin  to  exist  until  it  has 
been  liberated  and  its  very  being  is  a dying  and  when 
it  is  finished  it  is  ended,  while  plastic  art  begins  to 
exist  only  when  it  has  become  fixed  in  paints  or  clay 
and  every  stroke  that  contributes  towards  its  com- 
pletion gives  it  a more  fixed  and  permanent  character, 
therefore  kaleidoscopic  art  is  as  anomalous  as  “frozen 
music.  ’ ’ 

One  might  easily  pursue  these  essential  differences 


PSEUDO-PRIMITIYES 


21 


further  but  this  is  sufficient,  I think,  to  show  the  prime 
fallacy  underlying  all  these  vain  efforts  to  attain  the 
effects  of  one  art  by  means  of  another.  To  be  sure, 
we  know  that  red  enrages  a bull,  as  we  are  confidently 
told  by  advocates  of  this  method  of  musical  color 
notation,  and  that  certain  colors  have  been  found 
to  have  a soothing  and  even  therapeutic  effects  upon 
invalids  and  the  insane,  but  these  effects  are  obtained 
through  optical,  not  aural  sensations  and  one  might 
with  as  much  reason  substitute  an  omelet  for  a son- 
net, simply  because  we  know  that  sensations  are  re- 
ceived thro’  the  sense  of  touch  and  taste  as  to  pretend 
that  an  ‘‘Improvisation”  by  Kadinsky  is  the  emotional 
equivalent  of  an  “Improvisation”  by  Liszt.  Shut  your 
eyes  and  note  what  becomes  of  the  music  of  Kadinsky. 
From  this  it  follows  that  the  attempt  to  ignore  or 
transcend  the  forms  imposed  upon  every  art  by  its  inner 
necessity  usually  ends  in  nullity. 

And  something  similar  happens  when  a man  tries 
by  main  force  to  wrench  himself  free  of  the  time  in 
which  he  lives,  as  is  evident  in  the  work  of  many  of 
the  most  “advanced”  artists  of  to-day. 

Just  as  the  concrete,  matter  of  fact  realism  of 
Cezanne  has  been  converted  into  a system  of  involved 
geometries  simply  because  somewhere  he  said  that 
form  is  based  on  the  geometric  figures  of  the  sphere, 
cone  and  cylinder,  so  the  primitive  and  very  sincere 
romanticism  of  Van  Gogh  and  Gauguin  has  been  pro- 
ductive of  all  sorts  of  childish  exaggerations  that 
only  parody  the  defects  of  these  innovators  without 
achieving  any  of  their  virtues. 

The  genesis  of  Gauguin  was  altogether  different 
from  that  of  Cezanne.  To  begin  with  he  was  nurtured 
in  the  Academy,  and  he  made  his  debut  as  an  Acade- 
mic draughtsman  of  the  purest  and  best  defined  style. 
Later  his  spirit  underwent  an  evolution,  due  to  the 


28 


IS  I T A R Tf 


contagion  he  suffered  when  he  came  in  contact  with 
the  Pre-Columbian  art  of  South  America,  and  with 
the  art  of  the  Tahiti  Islands,  upon  which  he  lived  a 
long  time  and  in  which  I find  a great  deal  of  the 
savage. 

And  this  man,  who  had  been  taught  in  the  ways 
of  the  Academy,  could  say  in  later  life  when  he  had 
found  himself  that  “To  know  how  to  draw  is  not  to 
draw  well,”  and  that  “the  greatness  of  the  masters 
of  art  does  not  consist  in  the  absence  of  faults ; rather, 
their  mistakes  are  different  from  those  of  the  ordinary 
artist.”  This  came  to  be  very  true  of  his  own  work 
in  which  one  finds  an  absence  of  copying.  Instead 
he  devoted  himself  to  rendering  the  subjective  impres- 
sion and  the  large,  decorative  aspect  of  the  subject 
that  appealed  to  him. 

The  so-called  faults  of  drawing  he  ignored  as  in- 
consequential and  not  because  of  a lack  of  ability. 
He  seeks  a certain  monumental  effect  and  to  that  end 
he  sacrifices  the  truth  of  actuality,  wherein  one  may 
find  strong  bonds  of  kinship  with  Puvis  Chavannes 
whom  he  admired  equally  with  Cezanne. 

His  color  sense  is  as  personal  as  either  of  these 
masters,  but  more  sensuous  and  exotic  perhaps,  while 
his  predilection  for  the  primitive  art  is  no  less  natural 
and  instinctive.  He,  like  Cezanne,  was  drawn  to  it 
by  an  inner  compulsion  and  not  by  any  extravagant 
desire  to  appear  different. 

Both  of  these  men  impressed  upon  their  work 
something  of  the  character  of  their  own  physiognomy, 
producing  something  at  once  individual  and  yet  re- 
lated to  the  main  evolution  of  art.  Prom  the  method 
followed  by  these  two  painters  comes  the  name  I have 
applied  to  their  art  and  that  of  their  followers : primi- 
tive art,  because  of  its  tendency  to  go  back  to  the 


PSEUDO-PRIMITIVES 


beginning.  Hence  a few  observations  on  primitive 
art  may  be  in  place  here. 

The  people  who  appeared  at  the  dawn  of  civiliza- 
tion cultivated  the  arts,  not  as  they  wished,  but  as 
they  could.  They  had  neither  masters  nor  antecedents 
and  they  copied  nature  without  being  able  to  interpret 
nature,  nor  even  to  faithfully  reproduce  it,  because 
they  lacked  the  most  indispensable  elements.  Draw- 
ing was  limited  to  the  simple  line,  and  later  when  they 
began  to  use  color  their  paintings  were  monochromes; 
when  they  finally  arrived  at  polychronism  this  was 
imperfect  and  crude;  and  as  they  still  remained  ig- 
norant of  the  laws  of  perspective  their  figures  appear 
all  in  the  same  plane  upon  a flat  background. 

The  psychology  of  a race  is  identical  to  the  psy- 
chology of  the  individual;  the  intellectual  develop- 
ment is  just  as  gradual  in  one  as  in  the  other.  Look 
at  the  drawing  spontaneously  made  by  a child  and 
compare  it  with  those  made  by  the  artists  of  the 
primitive  races.  In  both  of  them  we  will  find  the 
silhouette,  the  line  more  or  less  clumsy,  but  not  lacking 
in  intention.  This  is  quite  universal  and  common  to 
all  humanity  in  that  particular  state  of  development, 
finding  a more  or  less  identical  expression  in  Aztec 
drawings  and  Egyptian  drawings  which  have  led  cer- 
tain ethnologists  and  archaelogists  to  establish  anthro- 
pological affiliations. 

Appearances  have  led  them  into  error.  They  have 
not  considered  that  humanity  is  the  same  wherever  it 
is  found  and  follows  the  same  laws  in  its  development. 
To  establish  affiliations  simply  because  one  finds  that 
two  races  have  developed  their  arts  through  the  same 
methods  and  that  there  are  resemblances  in  their  work, 
is  as  reasonable  as  to  pretend  to  establish  the  same 
affiliations  because  it  may  be  observed  that  in  both 
races  children  begin  by  crawling,  later  they  learn  to 


so 


IS  IT  ART? 


stand,  then  to  walk  and  finally  to  run.  This  evolution 
of  motion  coresponding  to  the  physical  evolution  is 
not  a patrimony  of  a certain  race  but  of  humanity. 

The  same  thing  happens  with  the  psychological 
evolution,  and  consequently  the  same  happens  also  with 
the  esthetic  evolution,  which  proceeds  from  the  simple 
to  the  complex,  from  the  line  to  the  composition,  from 
the  note  to  the  melody  and  from  the  melody  to  the 
harmony.  The  evolution  which  takes  place  in  each  in- 
dividual is  a synthesis,  in  the  material  as  well  as  in 
the  psychological  domain,  of  the  evolution  of  each 
race,  and  even  of  all  humanity. 

To  take  primitive  art  as  a model  or  even  “as  a 
point  of  departure,”  as  our  present-day  Pseudo-Pri- 
mitives are  fond  of  saying,  seems  to  me  as  illogical  as 
to  take  as  a model  of  locomotion  the  way  a child 
transports  itself  by  crawling.  I repeat  that  the  pri- 
mitives drew  and  painted  as  best  they  could  and  not 
as  they  wanted  to  just  as  the  child  walks  as  he  can 
and  not  as  he  wants  to.  And  therefore  I can  not  bring 
myself  to  believe  that  the  realization  of  our  present- 
day  artistic  ideals  can  be  sought  in  good  faith  in  the 
archives  of  primitive  times. 

With  the  exception  of  one  or  two  men  like  Picasso 
I feel  that  what  these  Pseudo-Primitives  of  the  present 
are  seeking  is  novelty,  something  that  will  break  what 
has  already  been  consecrated,  to  compel  attention  with 
the  extraordinary  even  if  they  have  to  fall  into  extra- 
vagance. It  does  not  seem  to  me  that  this  is  the 
logical  consequence  of  progress  in  general  and  of 
painting  in  particular,  because  I do  not  see  in  it  any- 
thing that  signifies  advancement,  either  in  its  tech- 
nique or  in  its  arguments,  neither  in  the  impression 
it  tries  to  produce  nor  in  the  ideas  it  tries  to  awaken. 

I do  not  see  that  this  reversion  to  primitive  art 
can  be  the  natural  result  of  the  slow  and  laborious 


PSEUDO-PRIMITIVES 


SI 


evolution  which  has  been  operating  in  painting 
through  long  centuries.  But  I have  to  admit  that 
humanity,  at  present,  finds  itself  shaken  by  a terrible 
neurasthenia  which  unbalances  its  spirit  in  general, 
and  particularly  in  art.  And  in  these  chaotic  social 
conditions  may  perhaps  be  discovered  the  underlying 
cause  of  all  the  unrest  that  has  found  such  a perverse 
and  disconcerting  expression  in  art. 

However,  I feel  very  strongly  that  this  whole 
movement  obeys  the  spirit  of  imitation,  and  that  most 
of  those  painters  and  sculptors  who  are  to-day  regard- 
ed as  the  most  original  and  revolutionary  of  all,  have 
simply  discovered  a fruitful  source  of  inspiration  in 
the  works  of  the  primitive  races  and  much  that  appears 
so  startling,  such  as  the  sculpture  of  Brancusi,  of 
Maillol,  Archipenko,  and  Lembruck,  as  well  as 
the  painting  of  Matisse,  is  very  closely  related  to 
primitive  African  art  and  primitive  Greek  and  Etrus- 
can art.  Brancusi’s  much  discussed  portrait  of  “Mile. 
Pogany”  as  well  as  his  “Une  Muse”  is  obviously  re- 
lated to  the  fine  art  of  ancient  Benin  and  to  early 
Greek  primitive  sculpture. 

This  indebtedness  to  the  past  is  very  apparent  in 
the  work  of  Henri  Matisse  who  of  all  these  men  is 
the  one  who  has  given  the  greatest  impetus  to  this 
movement.  Like  Gauguin  he  was  an  academic 
draughtsman  of  the  most  approved  type,  saturated 
with  the  principles  of  the  schools.  After  the  exhibi- 
tions held  a few  years  ago  of  Cezanne’s  paintings  he 
saw  a new  light  and  changed  his  whole  style  of  paint- 
ing; gathering  all  the  energies  of  his  indisputable 
talent  and  forcing  them  into  the  service  of  the  new 
ideal  he  shot  into  instant  prominence  in  the  artistic 
firmament. 

If  Cezanne  is  a descendant  of  Greco  by  artistic 
affiliations  and  Gauguin  from  the  South  American  and 


32 


IS  IT  ABTf 


Tahiti  primitives,  the  art  of  Matisse  seems  to  be  of 
Etruscan  and  Persian  origin.  The  resemblance  of  his 
work  to  the  specimens  of  Etruscan  art  in  the  Museum 
of  the  Louvre,  with  which  he  is  very  familiar,  shows 
this. 

The  painters  and  sculptors  of  this  new  movement 
appear  to  wish  to  do  in  their  art  what  they  have  seen 
acomplished  in  other  manifestations  of  the  fine  arts, 
namely:  what  Wagner  did  in  Music,  what  Ibsen  did 
in  Dramatic  Literature,  what  Eodin  did  in  Sculpture, 
what  Tolstoi,  did  in  the  Novel,  what  Maeterlinck, 
Nietzsche  and  other  thinkers  have  realized  in  their 
different  fields. 

But  it  seems  to  me  that  they  forget  that  these  revo- 
lutionaries are  ‘Hrue  personalities’’  and  that  they  have 
worked  spontaneously;  that  they  have  not  walked 
backwards ; that  they  have  not  sought  the  ideal  outside 
of  themselves,  but  in  their  own  souls,  and  have  carried 
it  within  themselves,  as  the  torrent  does  not  seek 
motion,  but  carries  it  within  itself  and  communicates 
it.  In  the  work  of  these  men  there  is  not  premeditation, 
but  inspiration.  They  do  not  especially  desire  to  break 
with  anything  or  anybody,  but  they  are  consequent 
with  their  own  spirit. 

Now  individuality  is  that  quality  particular  to  a 
thing  or  person  by  which  it  is  known  and  singularized. 
That  being  the  case  it  follows  that  it  is  not  trans- 
missible. This  person  who  has  the  gift  of  individuality 
is  original,  for  this  originality  is  just  what  charcterizes 
it,  and  one  of  the  conditions  of  originality  is  its  spon- 
taneity, which  is  not  sought,  but  is  wholly  unconscious, 
a kind  of  trade  mark  that  nature  has  impressed  in 
the  individual  to  establish  his  differential. 

Those  who  follow  the  original  man  as  desciples 
are  nothing  but  counterfeiters  of  that  trade  mark,  and 
as  they  lack  the  genius  of  the  master,  in  their  avidity 


PSEUDO-PRIMITIVES 


S3 


for  originality,  they  imitate  and  exaggerate  his  defects 
without  assimilating  his  virtues,  and  they  fall  into 
ridicule  and  die  in  oblivion. 

These  disciples  do  not  understand  that  in  the  mas- 
ter, in  the  original  man,  there  exists  a close  relation- 
ship between  the  defects  and  beauties  of  his  work,  as 
if  they  would  complete  each  other,  or  as  if  they  would 
complete  his  individuality.  This  is  the  very  thing  the 
followers  of  any  master  have  not  understood,  and  least 
of  all  those  who  follow  the  trail  of  Cezanne  and 
Gauguin,  and  their  vain  endeavors  to  walk  in  the  foot- 
steps of  these  two  masters  of  modern  art  has  resulted 
in  a multiplication  of  such  confusion  and  futility  as 
we  have  scarcely  ever  seen  before  in  the  whole  history 
of  art. 

However,  it  is  quite  possible  that  many  of  these 
men  proceed  in  good  faith,  with  a deep  conviction  that 
they  are  on  the  right  path,  that  they  are  redeeming 
art  and  enlightening  Humanity,  and  like  Don  Quixote 
they  establish  the  Golden  Age  in  the  past  and  not  in 
the  present  nor  in  the  future.  But  it  occurs  to  me  to 
ask:  Is  not  Art  a manifestation  of  the  spirit  of  the 
epoch  in  which  it  is  produced,  and  must  it  not  cor- 
respond to  the  hopes,  doubts,  sufferings  and  ideals  of 
that  epoch?  If  so,  do  these  sentiments  make  us  regret 
the  past  and  oblige  us  to  look  into  the  future  and  to 
struggle  for  it? 

To  my  understanding  the  further  removed  we  are 
from  the  past  by  time,  the  further  we  are  from  it  in 
our  manner  of  being.  The  form  of  man  has  modified 
itself,  and  his  senses  and  his  organs  of  perception  have 
suffered  the  same  modifications.  It  seems  to  me  quite 
impossible  that  we  should  see  and  regard  Nature  to- 
day in  the  same  way  that,  not  only  the  primitive  men 
but  those  of  the  last  century,  saw  and  regarded  it. 

The  great  phenomena  of  Nature  no  longer  are  to 


IS  IT  ART? 


SJ, 


us  expressions  of  the  anger  of  Heaven;  nor  do  we 
regard  epidemics  of  Disease  as  the  visitations  of  the 
Gods ; nor  are  the  natural  forces  of  the  universe  repre- 
sented by  Gods.  The  people  of  to-day  do  not  feel 
like  the  men  of  yesterday;  life  reacts  differently  upon 
them;  they  have  not  the  same  aspirations,  nor  the 
same  preoccupations.  No,  even  the  atmosphere  of  to- 
day is  not  the  same  as  that  of  thousand  years  ago, 
scientists  tell  us. 

What  will  be  the  result  of  all  these  attempts  to 
recreate  a new  art  out  of  the  art  of  a period  so  remote 
that  we  can  hardly  envisage  the  circumstances  of  its 
creation?  It  is  quite  impossible  to  predict.  We  must 
consider  the  chief  exponents  of  this  movement  as  in- 
vestigators and  not  as  expounders  of  new  doctrines, 
and  their  chief  service  to  their  generation  may  well 
consist  in  their  revelation  of  the  fact  that  what  has 
hitherto  been  regarded  as  belonging  solely  to  the 
domain  of  anthropology  must  henceforth  be  considered 
also  as  art  and  that  the  latter  is  always  conditioned 
by  the  state  of  civilizations  in  which  it  is  produced. 
And  after  all,  this  movement  which  appears  to  us  so 
anomalous  and  orderless  may  be  the  precursor  of 
something  we  are  as  yet  unable  to  suspect.  What 
it  seems  to  lack  is  the  crystallizing  force  of  a superior 
genius  who  will  bring  into  solution  all  these  contrary 
elements,  who  will  pronounce  the  Fiat  Lux  that  shall 
bring  order  out  of  chaos. 


Paul  Ce2anne 


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Wilhelm  Lembruck 


The  Kneeling  Woman 


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